


Be(e) Mine

by cheshirewritesagain2402



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25170193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirewritesagain2402/pseuds/cheshirewritesagain2402
Summary: Victor comes home from a three year undercover mission. Sherlock isn’t sure how much has changed between them.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Victor Trevor, Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Be(e) Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom clearly doesn’t have enough works.  
> x C.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, who sat slumped in his chair, exhausted after another exciting case with his not-so-new-anymore flatmate of one and a half years. 

“I’d really like to go to bed now, if it’s not urgent.”, Sherlock stated.

Mycroft very seldom felt in the mood to smile, but today he definitely wanted to grin like a child. He didn’t. But he wanted to. 

“He’s back.”

Sherlock, who had just been exhausted and pale, sat up straight, looking flushed and alive.

“Beg your pardon?”

His brother being polite. Oh he had been looking forward to this day.

“The plane lands at 3:40pm at Heathrow.”

Mycroft looked at his wristwatch.

“If you leave now, you will just about make it.”

Sherlock needn’t be told twice. He bolted up from his seat and down the stairs, slamming the door shut.

John Watson looked after him, confusion written all over his face.

“Should I follow him?”

Mycroft tilted his head ever so slightly.

“I don’t think so. He’ll be back.”

The elder Holmes tapped his umbrella on the floor.

“I bid you a good day, Dr Watson.”

He left the flat, well aware that Watson must have a million questions but it wasn’t up to him to answer them.

Sherlock sat in the cab, fidgeting and his pulse so high as if he had indulged in his seven percent solution - which he hadn’t done in years now. Sherlock had promised him and hadn’t touched anything since.

Three years. A lot of things can change in three years. People can lead a completely new life in three years. Three years were a long time. 

Sherlock took a deep breath. He could do it. He could look at the situation completely without feelings, without judgement, without getting emotionally involved. He could do it. 

The world’s only Consulting Detective kept telling that to himself until he reached the arrivals terminal of the airport. He jumped out of the car, making his way inside, definitely not nervous. No, he wasn’t nervous. Never. 

Sherlock checked the arrivals board. Then his watch. 3:50pm. Mycroft had been wrong.

A flight from Spain arrived at 3:42pm. A flight from the Netherlands, supposed to arrive at 3:40pm, was delayed until 4pm. 

Sherlock guessed it must be one of those flights. The more likely option, Spain, as Mycroft would have, most likely, already known about a delay. 

Sherlock made his way over to where a crowd of people were already waiting for someone to come through the arrival gates. Mothers, fathers, siblings, drivers, friends. Boring. 

Sherlock kept himself in the back, but couldn’t deny the fact that his eyes kept straining towards the gates every time they opened.

By 4pm, he had to admit that he was a nervous wreck.

By 4:04pm, he was ready to leave.

He turned around. 

And there he was.

The tall, handsome man with black rimmed glasses framing his green eyes. His longish blonde hair fell over his eyes a little. It was longer now than Sherlock remembered.

The detective rushed to his side without giving his legs a conscious order to move.

As Sherlock’s arms wound tightly around the man, he realised that there was a little more to hug. In muscles, obviously, not in fat.

“William.”, whispered Victor surprised, hugging him back the instant that he realised who had almost tackled him to the ground.

“Marry me.”, whispered Sherlock, equally surprised, but at his words not actions.

Victor’s breath caught in his throat, as he hugged him tighter. 

Sherlock tensed. Why had he said these words out loud? This definitely wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He had thought so many times about them in the last three years, but now, saying them out loud in such an, well, inappropriate environment. Victor was a total romantic and Sherlock had wanted to plan something really special for him. He had it all mapped out, in a tiny notepad in his room, and now he had ruined it all.

“...yes, yes.”, Victor’s voice drifted slowly through his thoughts and he pulled away to look up at the taller man.

His best friend, his only lover, smiled down at him, happiness shining in his eyes.

“Yes, I will marry you.”, he clarified, because he knew that Sherlock needed to hear it again. Victor knew him so well, it was like having the second half of yourself outside of yourself. Wow. This was so poetic, Victor would be proud of him. If he ever told him. Maybe in the speech he had prepared. A speech he wouldn’t need anymore. But still, he could tell it to Victor anyways, couldn’t he?

Sherlock started to smile as well, feeling irrationally happy. His Victor would be his forever. 

“Really?”

“Of course, you idiot.”

Victor bent forward and kissed him. 

The first kiss after three years of separation felt amazing.

“Vic?”, a voice beside them asked, and Sherlock pulled back abruptly, although Victor’s arms didn’t let him go far.

“Who’s your hot date?”, a man asked. 

To Sherlock’s dismay he was a little taller than himself and quite handsome, with a dashing smile.  
“My fianceè Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is my partner I’ve been working with the last two years, Phillipe.”

“Call me Phil.”, the stranger offered and held out his hand to shake. 

Sherlock reluctantly reciprocated the gesture and took the stranger’s hand in his. He hated any sort of physical contact with strangers but also friends, apart from Victor, but this man had spend so much time with his... fianceè, that he wanted to be polite.

“So this was the name you’ve been screaming on certain... nights?”, Phil asked with a salacious wink and then turned to Sherlock. “I tried to seduced him a few times but he refused.”

Victor, as well as Sherlock, blushed bright red. 

“Phil.”, admonished Victor him, while pulling Sherlock closer. 

Phil laughed. 

“I supposed I see you around.” He grinned at them, picked up his luggage and went towards the exit.

“Did you... sleep with him?” 

Sherlock felt sick even thinking about it, but he had to ask. Phil was so handsome and so... extrovert. With his charm on some lonely nights...

“Will.” Victor turned Sherlock around so he had to look at him. “I wouldn’t have a greed to marry you, if there was something like that untold between us. I haven’t slept with anyone since I left you.”

Sherlock could see the truth in his eyes.

“Have you kissed him?”

Victor pressed his lips together. 

“Yes, but not in the way you would assume. It was for our cover.”

Sherlock looked at Victor for a moment, before he smiled gently.

“Just like I have to sometimes kiss frogs for a case.”

Victor grinned. 

“Just like that. But now you got your prince back. No more kissing around.”

Sherlock laughed and Victor kissed him.

“Come on, let’s go home. I want to know everything about the last three years.”

Sherlock took one of Victor’s bags and his hand and led them outside to the taxi stand. They jumped in a cab and immediately cuddled together.

“I never want to do this again.”, Sherlock whispered, looking out the window at the passing buildings.

“Me neither.”, Victor agreed. “Being apart from you is one thing, but not being able to speak to you at all, that is impossible.”

They spent the rest of the cab ride in comfortable silence, their fingers intertwined, Sherlock’s head on Victor’s shoulder. 

Sherlock definitly didn’t have enough time to prepare Victor’s perfect welcome. He had everything planned. Every. Little. Detail. 

He checked his watch. Still enough time. He could make it. 

“I have to go somewhere.”, Sherlock stated as they exited the cab. “Go up to the flat, I won’t be long. My bedroom is on the first floor, past the kitchen. Bathroom is to your left in the corridor.”

Sherlock pecked Victor on the lips, before he dashed off.

“Oh, and don’t mind John.”, he called over his shoulder.

“John?”, Victor whispered to himself, his eyebrows raised.

He took the keys, which Sherlock had handed him, and unlocked the front door. Slowly he ascended the stairs to the flat. He didn’t even know Sherlock had moved. Of course, thinking about it, it made sense, because he couldn’t live with Mycroft forever. The two brothers were fighting no more than normal siblings living together, but Mycroft was a little too protective sometimes. So it was good for Sherlock that he was living on his own now. Or with John, whether that was a dog, cat, rat, snake... oh please no spider. 29 was definitely the time to be living with your pet or whatever John was.

Victor unlocked the door, entering the empty and quiet flat. No dog came to greet him. 

He took his bags into the room Sherlock had called his room. So maybe John was a flatmate, rather than a pet?

Victor took out some new clothes from his luggage, trying to find something more fancy. 

As he knew Sherlock, he had dashed off to get some champagne or something Victor really liked. Possibly stuff from Fortnum and Mason. Victor loved their sweets. But Sherlock didn’t have to do any of this. Him just being here would have been enough. But Victor also knew that Sherlock, no matter how hard he would deny it, had planned out the day he came back and now it was all down the drain.

Victor rummaged in Sherlock’s closet for a clean towel and undressed, before he went to the bathroom - wrapped in the towel, just in case John was a human being and would cross his way.

Victor turned on the tabs and put a stopper into the drain, before adding some bubble bath, which he had found in the cupboards.

He took off his glasses and submerged himself into the water, closing his eyes. It felt like absolute bliss. His body still hurt from exhaustion and the bruises, which still hadn’t healed yet.

The water was starting to cool, as he heard steps outside and then a soft knock at the door. He assumed it was Sherlock, so he asked him to come in.

The person that appeared in the doorway was definitely not Sherlock and very surprised to see him.

“Uh, hello? Sorry?”, the man stammered before turning his head away.

“My apologies, I thought you were Sherlock. I’m Victor Trevor. You must be John?”

Victor wasn’t self-conscious at all, but he was glad that he had some bubbles left to cover his body.

“Uh, yeah, I’m John. Sherlock’s flatmate.”

Victor watched John being uncomfortable for a few moments, before he cleared his throat.

“If you could just go outside for a moment, so I can get out of the tub?”

“Oh. Oh yeah.”, John stammered and closed the door behind himself.

Victor got out of the tub, dried off and went to Sherlock’s room to dress. Fully dressed and feeling relaxed and fresh he joined John in the living room.

“I apologise, Sherlock dashed off to somewhere and just told me to go inside. I had quite a few hours on the plane the last few days, so I decided to go for a bath.”

“Oh no, don’t worry.”, John said as Victor sat down on a leather armchair. “So you must be the one that Sherlock went to the airport for?”

“That I am. And you are his flatmate?”

“Oh yes. Dr John Watson. The guy with the blog.”, he joked.

Victor smiled politely despite not understanding.

“The guy with the blog?”

“Oh yeah. The blog that made Sherlock famous? It’s not actually his?”

“Sherlock has a blog? He is famous?”

What else had he missed in those three years?

John seemed a bit taken aback. 

“So, how do you actually know Sherlock?”

“Oh, I’m his fiancè.”

Victor relished in being able to call Sherlock his fiancè now. The other man’s question had surprised him, no doubt, but he had never been more sure about anything. Those three years apart had been the hardest in his life. It hadn’t been planned like this. It should have been a fairly easy undercover mission, three months, but things went wrong and became difficult. And the rest was history, as they say.

Now it was John’s turn to look surprised. Or well, less surprised, more like his eyes almost came out of his head.

“His what?”

“My fiancè.”, came Sherlock’s voice, who had just appeared in the front door. He dashed off to his room, a few turqouise bags in his hand, before he returned minus his coat and the bags, and sat on Victor’s lap, greeting him with a kiss.

John stared at them, Victor was well aware of this, but he didn’t mind. 

“Hey there.”, whispered Victor. 

“Hey. I got something for you.”, Sherlock whispered back.

“Hmmm, desert?”

“Yes.”

They looked at each other, smiling, flirting. 

Victor’s fingers toyed with the buttons of Sherlock’s shirt. 

Sherlock slapped him gently on the hand.

“Not right now.”

“Yes. Right now. I haven’t seen you in three years. I want the famous detective to shag me.”, he whispered so John wouldn’t hear what he said.

Sherlock blushed prettily and Victor stood, bringing Sherlock up with him.

“Apologies, John, but I haven’t seen my fiancè in three years. If you don’t mind...” But he didn’t wait for an answer before he pulled Sherlock to the bedroom with him.

Sherlock and Victor lay beside each other on the bed, glistening with sweat and trying to get their breath back.

“That was...”, Victor gasped.

Sherlock just nodded eagerly, not able to speak just yet.

Victor sat up a little, bending over Sherlock to snog the living hell out of him once more, before he pulled back.

“So, did you really get dessert for us?”, he asked  
Sherlock grinned and pushed himself up.

“That wasn’t enough for you?”

Victor’s hand wandered up Sherlock’s thigh. 

“Not nearly.”

The detective felt the same but he knew that he couldn’t do this again so soon after what they had just done.

“Later.”, he assured his fiancè with a kiss and slipped off the bed, still naked. He picked up the three turquoise bags again and took out some sandwiches and desserts, along with a bottle of champagne, which wasn’t as cold anymore as he had anticipated. 

“How long did we...?”

Victor chuckled. 

“Quite a while.”

He took the bottle from Sherlock. 

“Nevermind. We’ll drink it anyways.“

They arranged the food on the mattress before Sherlock went to his dresser and rummaged in the back of a drawer.

“Close your eyes.”, he instructed Victor, and the elder obeyed.

Sherlock took out some tealights, which he had purchased as soon as he had known he wanted to propose to Victor. Victor was a romantic, and candles were romantic, weren’t they? He had no idea about romance. He had googled it. 

So Sherlock put up lots of candles now, before he switched off the lights. 

Eventually, he pulled out the little black box and held it tightly in his hand. Vicror had already said yes, so he wouldn’t change his mind anymore, would he?

Sherlock went down on one knee beside the bed, facing Victor. He opened the ring box and took a deep breath.

“Open your eyes.”, he instructed.

Victor did as he was told and his eyes widened as he saw Sherlock kneeling in front of him, bathed in the low glow of candle light.

The rose golden ring shone in its box and Victor couldn’t believe how beautiful and how stunning it was. He loved it. And he loved the man holding it even more.

But now he had to do something himself.

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but Victor held up his hand.

“Let me just...“

Victor jumped out of bed, going to his bags and pulling out an identical black box. He turned back to Sherlock, kneeling down in front of him, opening the box.

“You already asked, but I didn’t.”

The ring for Sherlock was white gold, but it had two small diamonds and a sapphire. It was glittery, but still very discreet. He was sure Sherlock would love it.

“The years I spent without you, not being able to communicate with you at all, were the worst of my life and I realised that I never want to be without you again. I want you in my life. I want to share everything with you. Even my desserts. William Sherlock Holmes, do you want to become my husband?”

Sherlock started at Victor before he nodded.

“Yes, yes, oh yes, Victor, of course I want to marry you.”

Victor grinned and took the ring from the box, putting it on Sherlock’s finger. It fit like a glove.

“Vic, I... I know you already said yes, but I have to get it out because I refuse to be that sentimental on more than two days in my life.”

Victor chuckled and pecked his cheek.

“I wrote a whole speech, but I just want to say... I haven’t touched drugs since you left. I gave my promise to you and I will keep it. Forever. If you marry me, I promise you myself for the rest of our lives, no more, no less. I love you. Will you marry me, Victor?”

“Yes.”, Victor agreed again.

Sherlock pit the ring on his finger and they fell in each other’s arms.

“Never leave me like this again.”

“Never.”, Victor promised.

They held onto each other tightly.

“Will?”

“Hm?”

“Can we have desert now?”

Sherlock smiled and showered Victor’s face in kisses. 

“Anything for you, future husband.”


End file.
